


Connor's Story (1)

by pallasite



Series: Behind the Gloves [43]
Category: Babylon 5, Babylon 5 & Related Fandoms
Genre: Backstory, Bigotry & Prejudice, Bloodhounds (Babylon 5), Canon Compliant, Fix-It, Gen, Psi Corps, Sleepers, Slice of Life, Special Forces, Worldbuilding, telepaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 21:50:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10795443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pallasite/pseuds/pallasite
Summary: Connor's a bloodhound - in the "special forces" of the Corps.He knows the Hollywood vids are very, very far from reality.The prologue ofBehind the Glovesishere- please read!





	Connor's Story (1)

**Author's Note:**

> What is this series? Where are the acknowledgements, table of contents and universe timelines? See [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10184558/chapters/22620590).

2240\. On a plane.

            “So you’re a bloodhound?” asked the balding man next to Connor on the flight back to Chicago. “It’s not unsafe to sit here, is it? Next to you?” The man chuckled awkwardly.

            “There’s no safer seat on this entire transport.” Connor flashed his most charming smile. “I take down terrorists for a living, Mr. Irving. You have nothing to worry about.”

            It was mostly true – he’d been trained to engage terrorists, even though he’d only been a bloodhound for a year, and had only been assigned to routine missions to back up Psi Cops. He’d never yet been in a real firefight.

            Still, he was more than qualified.

            The man bristled. “How did you know my name? Did you scan me?”

            “You’re still wearing your nametag.”

            The man looked down at the badge, still hanging around his neck from the conference that morning.

            “Oh.”

            Connor looked out the window of the craft and thought about his well-earned two week furlough. Between training and missions, he didn’t get to spend much time at home, and he never would. Marriage was out of the question – he and Chrissy weren’t genetic matches. It didn’t matter, though, because a bloodhound was married to his career. Few marriages could withstand the strain of so much time apart, and such dangerous work.

            “Why are you called bloodhounds, anyway?”

            “Historical quirk,” Connor replied. “When our units were first formed, we played much more of a role in tracking down fugitives. It’s a holdover. Remember, not all Marines serve on ships, let alone ocean ships, from which their name derives.”[1]

            Mr. Irving nodded. “What a coincidence,” he said, “that I’m seated next to a bloodhound, and the vid for the flight is ‘The Choice’. You’ve seen it, I’m sure, right?”

            Connor shook his head. “We don’t get much time to watch vids on deployment.” Again, it was mostly true. Connor had no use for normal-made vids.

            “Oh, then you have to see it! It won several awards this year. It’s about the Psi Corps, too! You have to tell me what you think.”

            _No, I don’t. It’s really better if you don’t know what I think._

            Connor had escaped seeing the film, but he hadn’t escaped word of it.

            Mr. Irving didn’t let up, however, and soon several other passengers seated near Connor had injected themselves with their opinions.

            “I cried so much at the end,” offered one woman. “It’s such a powerful movie, so inspirational. I never thought so much about the choices telepaths face.”

            Connor just nodded, silently. Maybe, he hoped, if he kept his mouth shut, they would get bored and leave him be. But he had no such luck – the novelty of meeting a real, live Corps bloodhound was simply too overpowering.

            “Why did you choose to join the Corps?” the woman asked him.

            “I was born in the Corps.”

            “Oh that’s so sad. You never had a choice.”

            “I don’t look at it that way,” he replied, coldly.

            “You’ve never known any other life!”

            “I assure you, Miss, there’s none other I’d rather have.”

            He hated sitting in one place, not moving. How many hours was this damn flight?

            The attendant announced the start of the vid, and his new “friends” again insisted he watch it and share his “insider perspective” on the film’s message. Resigning himself to the “fun” he would have discussing it with his buddies back on base – over much alcohol, no doubt – he reluctantly caved.

            _It will make the normals happy,_ he told himself, even as he mentally rolled his eyes. It was the job of business telepaths to kiss ass and keep normals happy. It was his job to keep them  alive.

            The film’s plot could have been penned by a school child, and perhaps it was. Inga, the blonde, blue-eyed protagonist, developed telepathy in her late twenties and took her husband and four-year-old daughter on the run from the Corps. The drama of family scenes was intermixed with high speed chases, as the Corps kept discovering her whereabouts through a series of plot twists, and finally a terrible betrayal by a close friend. The melodrama ended (at last) with its iconic finale in the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge, where Inga stood, cornered by Evil Psi Cops and bloodhounds on both sides, presented with her final, terrible choice – to join the Corps, to take sleeper drugs to suppress telepathy, or to go to prison. Her little girl screamed for her mommy as Inga jumped in tragic defiance – and slow motion – into the icy waters below. The film ended with images of flying sea birds, perhaps representing the afterlife.

            Connor coughed, trying to keep himself from laughing. It had taken four whole bloodhound units and several Psi Cops to capture one unarmed blip? He’d spotted more tactical errors than he could count. The vid would have lasted ten minutes if its version of the Corps hadn’t been complete idiots.

            In the seat in front of Connor, the woman started crying all over again, telling her friend in the next seat how Inga was finally _free at last_.

            “Well? What did you think?” asked Mr. Irving.

            Connor shrugged noncommittally.

            “You bloodhounds don’t talk much, do you?”

            _I need a drink_.

 

[1] EarthForce has a Marine Corps. See for example, _GROPOS_.

**Author's Note:**

> Not only is it canon-consistent that there would be such ridiculous one-sided presentations of telepath life (and death) in-universe, fandom has also gone down the same rabbit hole!
> 
> http://www.echoschildren.org/CDlyrics/ANNIE.HTML
> 
> The Choice! Life on the run! Evil, evil Psi Cops! Slavery, drugs or prison! DRAMATIC SUICIDE! Freedom, at last!
> 
> /laughing/
> 
> (As the Indigo Girls once said in concert, you have to laugh at yourself, because you'd cry your eyes out if you didn't.)


End file.
